Bramble & Blueberry Jam 

The most amazing thing happened the other day.  Well, let’s put this slightly into context.  Amazing for an inner city jam lover.  Not so blow me down with a feather incredible for those of you who live in villages or small towns, but anyway…

Our jam supply has finally run out, and although I had bought a jar of cherry jam recently, that, too, was rather deplete.  

Now the thing with a jam conundrum at this time of year is not a lack of ripe and ready fruit, but more about which fruit to choose, which led me to thinking, where could I get my hands on some fresh growing, ripe fruit that the dog hasn’t already scoffed?

Every day we walk up our garden path and up the few steps to the front door.  On the right hand side is a mound of weathering sticks within which a bramble bush has slowly wound it’s way through to the light. Recently it’s fruit has begun to ripen, so the other day, whilst pondering my jam conundrum, I opened the door and picked a small bowlful of juicy brambles, washed them, added some jam sugar and a few blueberries we had left in a bowl, splashed in a hint of lime juice and water, and let it do it’s thing.

This was the most satisfactory jam making session I have had on so many levels, but foremost what it made me realise is that you don’t actually have to make a whole heap of jam all in one go.  Indeed you could, if you so desired, make a different one every day.  Which I may try and do sometime soon.

*pops idea on the ‘to do’ list*

And for those of you who are the slightest bit interested, the jam is delicious.

Meanwhile, as the summer holidays idle on by, the wee boy and I actually had an appointment today which I had to, at the last minute, cancel.

‘Why is this?’ I hear you cry, collectively.

Well, we were unable to drive anywhere as the wee boy’s imaginary friend Glados had been playing with the car key and she couldn’t for the life of her, remember where it was.  

Although we did spend some time searching in the back garden where she felt she may have buried it, later on she thought that, actually, it may have been left in the wee boy’s bedroom. Sadly we were unable to chat with her much more after that as she told the wee boy she was tired and needed a lie down. 

Thankfully we eventually found the key ensconced in a pile of cooking dishes and congratulated ourselves with a lovely snack of bread and jam.


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